


Home Is Too

by epistemology



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Dick almost murders a man but there's no violence, Don't Post To Another Site, Except he's not a parent yet, Gen, Little Dickie is Smol, Platonic Soulmates, Red String of Fate, Writing ~22 yo Bruce was a trip y'all, but he will be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:22:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24499366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epistemology/pseuds/epistemology
Summary: The red strings were a myth, so why was one trailing from his wrist?
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne
Comments: 12
Kudos: 133
Collections: Airs Art Arch Fortnightlies





	Home Is Too

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Air's](https://airsart.tumblr.com/) fortnightly - red string of fate prompt. Title comes from the song "Home" from the musical _Beauty and the Beast_. The full lyric is "My heart's far, far away. Home is too."
> 
> Special thanks to [AK](https://runnfromtheak.tumblr.com/) for giving this a once over! You're the best:)

The red strings were a myth.

Dick had been raised on the stories, in every variety in which they came. Sometimes the string led you to your soulmate, your perfect lover and one true match. Sometimes it was the person or thing that would help you achieve your greatest desire at the time it appeared. Sometimes they led to a place, and sometimes they led to your death. Dick knew every variation of every tale. The circus had made sure of that.

The red strings were a myth, so why was one trailing from his wrist?

Dick looked down and then looked out. He couldn’t see where it ended.

He gave an experimental tug; it moved but did not pull taut. Given the fact that it hadn’t been there a moment prior and slipped underneath the window pane that had been closed all night, it was safe to say that magic was involved.

Dick sat cross legged on the floor, dropping smoothly into the position the way he’d been taught. He should really think about this, but there were also more important matters at hand. Although, it could be that they were all connected.

He glanced at the window again and wished he could work it open. He’d already tried, but the ladies at St. Jude’s had made sure that it was locked up tight, that _he_ was locked up tight. Being from the circus and an acrobat, this did not settle well.

Dick heaved a big sigh, just because he liked the drama of it and because he felt he deserved it, a little. He tugged the string again. It bounced into the air and then flopped uselessly.

His parents were dead, killed by a man by the name of Tony Zucco. Dick hoped the string really did lead to the fulfillment of his greatest desire because if his parents weren’t going to magically resurrect, then the only other choice was Zucco’s death. In fact, Dick was sure the string would lead to him, or maybe to someone who could help Dick get his revenge.

But the string couldn’t get him out of St. Jude’s, so for now it was effectively pointless, and he climbed into his cramped little bunk and tried to sleep. Dick wasn’t sure when he dozed off, but he dreamed in red.

*

While he hadn’t been sure what to expect, Dick was glad to see the string follow him around the building as if by magic. It didn’t need to lead out that specific window, he realized, but simply directed him out of the group home. Dick understood why. He wanted to leave too.

So, when he finally found a window up high in the attic that was rickety enough to be forced open, he jumped at the chance, quite literally. Dick leapt out the window, tumbling smoothly down onto the balcony below, careful not to make any noise and wake any of the other kids or worse, the sisters. Then he began his trek.

It took a great deal of wandering around Gotham at night, but Dick wasn’t scared. He’d already faced the worst life had to offer when he saw the screaming faces of his parents as they fell and the blankness of their faces after... 

He kept walking.

The string led him through twisting alleys and around bends and turns until he was sure he was just walking in circles. Shouldn’t the red string of fate be a direct line? Dick shook his head to himself. The stories had made it clear that fate was messy and chaotic, and the endings were often sad. Dick stopped.

Someone was standing in the shadows. 

He ran.

Dick wasn’t scared, he told himself later, when he was safe (or at least a little more safe) in the confines of St. Jude’s. But he didn’t want to die. Not like his parents, not before he got his revenge.

He didn’t fall asleep that night.

*

Dick planned to sneak out again the next night, but fate obviously didn’t agree because he was taken in by a man named Bruce Wayne within the course of the day.

Mr. Wayne himself did not show up to get him, but his butler did, a tall Englishman whose accent made Dick feel a little less alone. He was very prim and proper, not at all what Dick was used to at the circus, but he had a nice smile that made Dick feel so very safe and so very welcome. Dick liked him.

The house was big, and Dick wondered if this was what America was like. He hadn’t seen any big houses the night he’d snuck out, but this place fit right in with all the stories he’d heard about the country. He didn’t like the big house, except for it’s banisters. Those would be fun to slide down, and he made a mental note to do so as soon as Alfred left.

Alfred didn’t leave. In fact, he stayed near Dick the rest of the day until bedtime, when he was ushered into a big empty room with a big empty bed. Dick hated it, but he wouldn’t be spending the night there anyway. Sneaking out of the Manor was easier than sneaking out of St. Jude’s.

Dick followed the string, and he was glad that it was such a bright red, or he would have lost it under the cloudless sky. There were no twists and turns this time, but it stretched out in a perfectly straight line as far as he could see.

He crossed the bridge into the center city, and he kept walking. Tony Zucco, he thought. He thought nothing else related to the man. Just his name, on repeat.

He came to a halt when his string stopped abruptly at a building and then led upwards. Dick took one look at the fire escape and began to climb.

There was a person on the roof.

More importantly, the person marked the end of the string.

Most importantly, the person was Batman.

Dick wasn’t from Gotham, but he knew who he was from the short time he’d been there. Batman punished criminals. Tony Zucco was a criminal. Dick had been right.

The string had led him, indirectly, to the fulfillment of his greatest wish. Tony Zucco’s murder.

“You’ve been following me,” came from underneath the cowl.

Of course Dick had been following him. Did he not see the string?

"Well, yeah. How come you haven't been following me?" He shook the string for emphasis.

"Who says I haven't?"

Dick squinted. "How've you been doing that? If you've been following me, then shouldn't the string have turned me around?"

"There are other ways of following people that don't require me to be behind you," Batman said somewhat cryptically.

"Wow," Dick said simply. "So I _was_ right!"

Batman didn't react to that - Dick suspected he didn't react to much - so he continued.

"The string really did lead me to my greatest desire!"

Batman stared.

"Except it's not you!" Dick added hurriedly, in case that's why he was confused. "But you're the one who can help me with it!"

"With what?"

There was only one thing Dick wanted above all else. "Revenge. I want Tony Zucco to die."

There was a pregnant pause, and Dick waited for confirmation. What he got was not that.

"You understand I can't help you with that. I can help you bring him to justice; you and I want the same thing in that regard."

Dick didn't understand. Why had the string led him to Batman if he wasn't going to help? If the string wasn't leading to the fulfillment of his greatest desire, then what?

"But we don't!" He spat out. "I don't want him to go to jail, he doesn't deserve that! He killed my parents, so he _needs_ to die too!"

Dick could feel his eyes burning, and he tried to blink away the tears. He didn't want to cry in front of Batman, but he was already sniffling.

Batman held out his hands in a placating gesture. He didn't look any less intimidating for it. "Richard, I understand-"

"No, you don't!"

"Richard-"

"It's Dick," he all but sobbed. "My parents called me Dick. And I don't need your help! The string was wrong!"

Dick turned towards the fire escape, ready to leave, to get away, but Batman put a heavy hand on his shoulder, stopping him.

"Dick," he said softly. "Think about this before you do something you regret."

"You're not my dad! My dad's dead!" Dick shot back before shrugging off the hand and disappearing down the fire escape. He ran as fast as his legs could carry him all the way back to the Manor, the string unraveling again as he went.

*

The next three nights Dick went out again and followed the string. Each time it led back to Batman, and never did it lead to Zucco.

It wasn’t fair.

Batman was always waiting for him, just like he had been the first night. Dick always turned right back around, closing his ears to Batman’s logic and reasoning as to why Dick shouldn’t kill Zucco. Dick had had enough of logic, and he’d had enough of Batman.

It was time to do things on his own.

The fourth night, Dick did not follow the string. Instead, he went straight to where he knew Zucco was.

Batman was already there.

In fact, Batman had already taken Zucco to the roof to interrogate him.

Dick stilled. Now was his chance.

Batman froze, no doubt noticing the pull of the string that signaled its other end was near. Dick jumped.

He ran directly at Zucco, cartwheeling along the way, giving him the momentum to push the man right off the roof, and before Batman could stop him, Dick rushed to look over the side, only to find Zucco hanging onto the ledge. He got ready to stomp on his hands until he fell the eighty feet and hit the ground below. Just like his parents.

_It’s okay little Robin. Mommy’s got you._

It would be a poetic end.

_You were trying to fly so high like Mommy and Daddy, huh?_

Dick dared to look at Batman out of the corner of his eye, but he wasn’t moving. It was odd, but Dick would take advantage of what he got.

_I called you Robin because you came to us on the first day of spring._

He stepped forward and looked Zucco in the eye.

_I didn’t know you’d want to be a little bird..._

It wasn’t what he’d expected. Zucco looked terrified, but not of Dick. His eyes were crazed, darting wildly back and forth, and the thing he was scared of was the ground.

He looked like his parents.

Dick wanted to be sick.

He couldn’t watch another person fall, not even Zucco.

In one fluid movement, Dick helped him back onto the roof, and Batman had him down before Dick could even understand what he’d just done.

He’d saved his parents’ murderer.

He’d saved Tony Zucco, who was now lying unconscious a few feet away, and Dick didn’t even feel an ounce of satisfaction looking at his motionless form. He just felt empty, alone.

He wanted his parents back.

Why hadn’t the string led to them? Why Batman?

Dick didn’t even realize he was crying until he felt an ungloved hand wiping away his tears, the red string still looped around Batman’s wrist. Dick wished it would go away, wished he could cut it, but instead, he threw his arms around Batman’s neck and let himself weep.

A strong pair of arms wrapped tightly around him, and there was a funny feeling in Dick’s chest as soon as they embraced, a warmth that spread all the way to his toes despite the chill in the air.

His parents’ hugs had never felt like that, and it made Dick feel scared and curious and sorrowful all at once.

He pulled away, and the string was gone.

That was the thing about the red string of fate: there were so many stories, so many possibilities, and whatever story Dick was a part of, he was pretty sure a completion had just taken place.

Something had decided to connect Dick to Batman, and he didn’t have to understand why. He only had to accept it, which was starting to feel a little easier.

Batman smiled, and even with most of his face covered, Dick knew it reached his eyes.

“How about we go home? I think the two of us have a lot to talk about,” he said.

Home.

Dick wasn’t sure how he felt about that. It sounded so right coming from the mouth of Gotham’s vigilante, even though the rational part of his brain was screaming that his home was with his parents, not Batman.

Batman was not his dad. Batman was not his home.

But maybe he could be.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on [tumblr](https://epistemologys.tumblr.com/)


End file.
